


bellyache

by fated_addiction



Category: K-pop, Korean Actor RPF, Real Person Fiction, SM Entertainment | SMTown, So Nyuh Shi Dae | Girls' Generation, 소녀시대 | Girls' Generation | SNSD
Genre: F/F, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-27
Updated: 2017-09-27
Packaged: 2019-01-06 06:27:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12205698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fated_addiction/pseuds/fated_addiction
Summary: “I gave your number out yesterday,” Sunny says casually.Unfinished business is never linear, but it's always dangerous.Jessica, Taeyeon, and the science of not getting it right.





	bellyache

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a long time! I'm definitely not dead. Just, well, exhausted, getting over being stupid sick and a whole bunch of other things that are really, really boring. But I missed these two! And angst.
> 
> So hopefully you enjoy it!

They were drunk the last time they talked about her. Correction, _confession_ , _she_ was drunk the last time they talked about her. This isn’t about that.

So:

“I gave your number out yesterday,” Sunny says casually. Then she swats Taeyeon’s hand away, grabbing the bill. “You bought _last time_ ,” she says too.

“You didn’t,” Taeyeon groans. Or sort of groans. It’s sort of lazy, sort of suspended in disbelief. So she tries again, puts her card away, clearing her throat. “You _didn’t_.”

Sunny shrugs, contemplating, before shoving her card into the bill sleeve. “You’re fine.” 

There is untouched dessert between them. Beer bottles are empty in the middle of the table. They had chicken and there are leftovers next to Taeyeon, sitting in a bag as a proof. Somewhere, a Dark Corner of the Internet will say: “Combative contract _negotiations_!” and also relay a weird story about how ten-years seems to be their own version of the seven year idol curse. Everyone wants to write the end of their story. Weird, really.

“I don’t want to date,” Taeyeon grimaces. She rubs her eyes and reaches for her glass. There is no more beer left. “I’ve told you –”

“I mean you can date if you want to. I don’t care what you do,” Sunny starts. “This isn’t about that either,” she dismisses.

“Thanks,” Taeyeon says dryly. “Appreciate it.”

“It’s just Jessica. Jessica is going to call you,” Sunny interrupts. Then she scoffs, almost dismissing Taeyeon. “Let’s be honest though – you’ll probably panic and call her first. You always panic when it’s Jessica.”

Taeyeon opens her mouth. Then she closes it. _It’s just Jessica_.

That much is true.

 

 

 

 

 

This thing about Taeyeon is, although everyone has decided she’s _that_ person, she spends a lot of time thinking about the past, the things she could have done, categorizing them into things that she will _never_ do because she is terrible at apologies. The thing about Taeyeon is, she has no problem wondering if she’s made the wrong decision, about moving forward, about catching her breath and standing straight to say, “okay so I made a _damn_ mistake!”

Her mother calls it getting older. Then there is that too.

 

 

 

 

 

“I can’t do this,” she says, out loud, in the cab. Loud enough for the driver to turn halfway to stare “Are you okay?” he asks too.

Taeyeon manages to nod and ignore him. She turns her head to the window.

Her phone sits in her hand. She still smells like beer and chicken and is ready to go home. Her fingers twitch a little. The screen is glowing and Jessica’s number is pulled up and staring back at her, thanks to Sunny. Her fingers move over the delete button. It’s not like she’s going to call, she tells herself. She won’t. Why would she?

Her phone rings.

“Hello?” she answers, doesn’t think twice, but really she panicked and her fingers slipped off the buttons. She clears her throat again. “ _Hello_?”

There is a laugh. “It’s just me.”

A total of fifteen uninterrupted seconds passes by where Taeyeon feels herself descend into a weird sort of panic, where she leaves her body and finds herself staring, waiting for some reaction because _it’s just me_ is loaded in a way that it’s never been before. It feels like fifteen seconds, fifteen long seconds, ready to lodge into her memories.

“ _Jessica_ ,” she breathes. Kind of chokes. 

“Sunny told me to call,” Jessica answers in kind. Then laughs again, “Actually, she called me and ordered me to call and told me that I’d either freak you out or make you hang up on me… then you’d panic and call me back. So I guess she was right?”

“She told me I’d panic and call you first,” Taeyeon mutters.

“Sounds like you and her,” Jessica replies.

There’s no wistfulness, at least not the kind that Taeyeon always catches herself imagining. A silence falls between them and Taeyeon stares straight ahead, watching the driver switch lanes. The car lights are heavy and hazy and she can’t remember if there’s rain coming. She always forgets an umbrella. 

“This is _weird_ ,” Taeyeon blurts.

“Only if you make it weird,” Jessica offers. Her voice is bright, kinder than Taeyeon remembers it to be. She’s teasing her. 

“When was the last time we talked?”

“Like actually talked?” Jessica snorts.

“Stupid question,” Taeyeon says, muttering again.

“Only if you make it,” Jessica says lightly and it’s weird, maybe even uncomfortable, but there’s a sharpness in Taeyeon’s throat all of the sudden, like a pang but not quite a pang, and maybe this is just a reminder of how much she’s missed talking to her or how much of a stranger Jessica is now. There are questions and comments and concerns, things that she’s always _wanted_ to ask, but probably won’t ask because asking leads to a place she’s sure she won’t be able to handle.

But she chokes. “So, um, how are you?”

Jessica laughs. The question is really more like a statement anyway. “Fine.” She pauses and then entertains. “I’m fine.” 

“You look… happy.” Taeyeon swallows and turns her gaze to the window.

“Are you?”

“I think so?” She halfway blurts. She stops abruptly. There’s a sharp taste in her mouth. It feels a little like a lie. “Sometimes, you know?”

“You sound really convinced.” Jessica is dry.

“It’s been weird,” Taeyeon replies, almost defensive.

There’s a pause and a sigh. It’s a sharp sound. Taeyeon turns her wrist and stares at her watch. They have been talking more than five minutes. That’s more than she thought was possible.

“Are you okay?” Jessica asks, like she’s been debating. Each word is sharp.

Taeyeon laughs. Maybe in disbelief. “It’s been awhile,” she admits.

“I’m confused?” Taeyeon imagines Jessica’s face, scrunched even as she says this, constricted in some sort of pout.

“Since someone’s asked me that,” Taeyeon finishes.

“That’s not okay,” Jessica replies carefully. She does not say: _I don’t believe that_. There’s a charged undertone of something – maybe anger, maybe disappointment, and Taeyeon feels guilty for letting her assume. It’s about grouping people together. “You know that right,” Jessica pushes again. “That – that it’s not okay.”

“It’s not important,” she mumbles, face flaming. She dismisses this piece of the conversation entirely. 

The last time, the _real_ last time someone asked was when the third article about their contract negotiations hit and it was just so frustrating because everyone is pinpointing failure on their solo successes. It centers her in the middle of it mostly. Her successes, her only ones, the ones that she wants so badly, lead to the failures of everyone else around. These are the things she thinks about. Sometimes they just sit on the edge of her tongue.

“You don’t have to talk to me,” Jessica says. Lightly, even. But Jessica is good at that. Making people talk to her.

“It’s not that,” Taeyeon protests. Tries to. The words seem half-hearted at best.

“Then?”

Taeyeon could answer. In fact, in her head, she’s answered over and over again. Sometimes she screams. Sometimes she cries. In between that, there’s even a fantasy that edges out from time to time, of her reaching forward and Jessica suddenly, there and present, not turning away. Because she can’t remember a time that Jessica’s turned away. 

The driver turns the music on in the front of the taxi. It cuts through her thoughts. Taeyeon listens to Jessica sigh again.

“Change, huh?” Jessica says. It’s too loaded.

Taeyeon swallows. Instead, she settles back into her seat. Stares straight ahead at the road and the lights, the heaviness that the night seems to bring over her – it’s the alcohol, she tells herself, even though dinner has started to fade away. _I miss you_ , she could say. But there’s a lot behind that, a lot more that she’s not ready to hold.

“I should go,” she says finally, firmly to mean it. There’s a sigh on the other line, expectant more than heavy. “It was nice –”

“To hear your voice,” Jessica finishes, gently even, saving the day just like she used to.

“Yeah,” Taeyeon says, swallowing. “You too.”

There is no goodbye. There are knots in her stomach. She can’t hear herself anyway. Taeyeon pulls the phone from her ear and drops it onto her lap. Her fingers flicker forward, twitching as they curl around her phone again.

Later, there’s a text. _Let’s have dinner_.

Jessica’s always been braver anyway.

 

 

 

 

 

“What’s the worst that can happen?”

Tiffany, with a California dial tone, leaves her a message. Taeyeon listens to it again.

“What’s _the_ worst that can happen?”

What goes unsaid: _everything else has already happened_.

 

 

 

 

 

Taeyeon buys wine. Red. Because she doesn’t know what else to do. There is liquor store a block away before she panics and maybe, okay, sure she sort of remembers what Jessica’s favorite vintage is. It’s always been expensive.

“I’m standing downstairs,” Jessica greets on the phone. She is a shadow in the distance, standing in the lobby and illuminated into a blur. Taeyeon has already found a spot, car still set into drive, just in case, watching her with her teeth digging into her lip. “Are you coming in?” Jessica asks.

“Yeah,” Taeyeon replies. She sighs.

Taeyeon parks her car, grabs the wine and smashes the bow wrapped around its neck with her knuckles.

They meet each other halfway.

“Did you just move here?” she asks, awkwardly. She shifts and shoves the bottle of wine into Jessica’s hand. The bow crunches into her palm.

“That’s right,” Jessica says, “you’ve never been here – I moved here when Soojungie and I were doing the show. It’s home to both of us.”

“It’s nice,” Taeyeon mutters. 

She follows Jessica through an elaborate lobby, a hallway full of expensive paintings and ornate windows. It’s hiding in plain sight, if anything, but Jessica’s taste has been more on the simple side, expensive of course, but simple nonetheless. It isn’t until the elevator that she gets to look at Jessica. She finds herself holding her breath, eyeing her as she presses a code into a keypad. Small moments: Jessica pushing her hair behind her ear, Jessica’s neck, long and slender, her fingernails neat, the color soft; all things she’s come to expect.

“How are you?”

Taeyeon blinks, caught. “What?”

“How are _you_?” Jessica asks again. The elevator opens and she holds back the door to let Taeyeon through first. “You know, the question you ask someone you haven’t seen in a really long time.”

“Not by choice,” she swallows and there’s another keypad, Jessica stopping outside the door to roll her eyes. Taeyeon tries again, “You know what I mean.”

“I can guess,” Jessica shoots back. “But I’m hoping to have a nice dinner or, well, at least a really civil one.”

“I came to do civil,” Taeyeon says, and the door opens.

A unsettling range of emotions hits her walking through the door, following Jessica. Her home is open and spacious, bright and warm. It looks like Jessica, large and small pieces, colors and random things out of place – a blanket, a pair of shoes skewed at the door. It’s overwhelming to the point where Taeyeon’s hands start to tremble and a loud, startled laugh bursts from her mouth.

“Are you… okay?”

Taeyeon leans into the wall, clutching her stomach. She continues to laugh, her eyes squeezing shut. Her head feels a little heavy.

“Yah,” Jessica pushes, her fingers curling around her arm. Taeyeon only laughs harder. Her eyes are starting to water. “What’s _happening_?”

“This – this is ridiculous,” she manages. She pushes her weight into her feet. It leans her into Jessica, against her arm, against her shoulder. Her face feels flushed. “This whole thing is _ridiculous_.”

“This is ridiculous,” Jessica agrees, her fingers dip into Taeyeon’s shoulder, then curl and rise to comb through her hair. “But at some point we’ve got to let go of all of that, you know? The ridiculous part.”

“You’re way too calm about this,” Taeyeon tells her. Pulls away. Her heart is in her throat and her tongue presses into her teeth. For a minute, she smells like Jessica, soft, and she has to pull away to breathe again. For the space.

Jessica hands her slippers. “I’m hungry,” she shrugs.

Taeyeon chokes. It feels like a laugh bubbling up.

 

 

 

 

 

The thing about Jessica is that she is impulsive, that Taeyeon would like to think of her as impulsive, only because it makes her feel better about everything. The thing about Jessica is that she doesn’t hold onto things, not like Taeyeon, definitely not like Taeyeon who files them away into a dark corner of her brain, only to hold them close instead. The thing about Jessica is that she is honest to you, right in front of you, and from a distance, in print, in press, in mutual friends and in everything else that she does. 

Confession: Taeyeon has bought all of her albums.

All of that is in there too.

 

 

 

 

 

When dinner is put in front of her, Taeyeon can only stare. It’s pasta, of course it’s pasta, but it reminds her of the times she’s secretly looked up and at Jessica’s Instagram account because curiosity, you know, _curiosity_. 

“It looks good,” she murmurs, and watches as Jessica finishes with wine. She stands while Taeyeon sits, across the kitchen island and digging her fork into the pasta. “Do you cook a lot now?”

Jessica laughs. “I try to. It’s weirdly therapeutic.”

“I bake.” Taeyeon shrugs. “I get it.”

“I know. I hear about all your Instagram escapades.” Jessica points a fork at her. “I still get all my alerts. To make sure you guys are all okay.”

“You could always call,” Taeyeon retorts. Doesn’t mean to – or does, maybe she does, and there’s a bitter taste to it, one that sticks to the roof of her mouth. “I would answer,” she says. 

“But would you really?” There’s no malice in Jessica. The truth? There never is. But Taeyeon still feels the sharpness of the question and it settles onto her shoulders, pressing down hard. “You’ve had time,” Jessica points out. “To be mad at me,” she says, “to – hate me, to get over that or whatever you feel… you’ve had time to call me. And you haven’t.”

Taeyeon is quiet. She looks away, pushing her fork into the pasta. She shifts the noodles to the side, watching some of the sauce slide off the plate.

“Sorry,” Jessica murmurs. She leans forward, resting her chin on the palm of her hand. Her hair flutters across her face. “It just came out.”

“Do you miss it?” 

Jessica snorts. “Are you going to leak this?”

“Shut _up_.” Taeyeon blurts, can’t help it, and gets awkward, again, because she feels flustered that she hasn’t changed that much. “I mean,” she covers herself. Then she sighs loudly instead. “You know what I mean.”

“I do miss it,” Jessica says without any preamble. There’s no warning either as Taeyeon stares at her wide-eyed. “What did you expect me to say? No? I can be okay with moving forward and still miss things. There’s no law to say otherwise.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Taeyeon looks away.

“But it is,” Jessica retorts, and it’s almost gentle. “And that’s okay too. I miss you guys. I wished things happened differently. But I can’t change anything… and I don’t think I would want to change anything. I wouldn’t be me.”

“I just don’t understand how you can say these things. Like – ” Taeyeon nearly drops her fork as her hands flail wildly in front of her. She’s not thinking now. “It would just be easier for you –”

“It would be easier for _you_ ,” Jessica finishes, “if I were still angry.”

They stare at each other. Dinner sits between the two of them, pushed around in plates and corners. Jessica’s wine is untouched. Taeyeon realizes that she’s sort of trembling, her fingers pressing against the table edge as some kind of lifeline. This was a bad idea, she thinks, and sort of wildly because she’s walked herself straight into this conversation without any outs.

Taeyeon looks away. “You were angry the last time.”

“You called me drunk,” Jessica points out.

“Good point,” Taeyeon winces, gritting her teeth. She then laughs – loudly, abruptly, her fists pressing against her eyes because she feels like crying and it kind of just happens that way.

Her eyes are wet and her skin starts feels a little slick. Her ears are ringing, but she listens as the chair in front of her slides back and then suddenly, maybe too soon, Jessica is in front of her. Her hands tentatively drop over her knees and Taeyeon peels back one fist. 

“I hate crying,” she mumbles.

Jessica laughs. Her knees are pressing into the floor, her shirt loose. There’s a distinct, soft floral smell and she can’t help herself, reaching forward to swing her fingers against her face. 

“Stop crying,” Jessica says softly, and Taeyeon swallows, a little wide-eyed. Jessica’s fingers press into her cheek, then over her mouth and everything seems to slow down, little by little. “Stop crying,” she says again. “I hate when you cry,” Jessica says with a laugh. “I don’t really know what to do.”

Taeyeon chokes on a laugh. “Liar.”

“It’s true,” she says. “I get really weird.”

Jessica’s fingers stop at her mouth, her thumb tracing along her bottom lip. She smiles to herself and Taeyeon finds herself watching, unable to really look away.

“I’m probably going to do something stupid,” she tells Taeyeon, or doesn’t tell her. There’s a stilted, sharp intake of breath, maybe Jessica, _maybe_ Taeyeon and it feels like it’s not going to matter anyway.

Jessica kisses her first.

It’s just a touch. Just the slightest. Taeyeon’s mouth puckers, maybe to breathe, maybe to taste, and there’s a mix of sweetness, wine maybe, that she starts to taste. Everything starts to slow down. Her ears are ringing. She reaches forward and slides her hand against Jessica’s face, her fingers along her jaw and then to cup her chin. Taeyeon opens her mouth and then Jessica sighs, swallows, and her tongue presses into Taeyeon’s, the taste starting to grow.

And then it’s over, abruptly so, Jessica pulling back, breathing heavily as Taeyeon stays, shifting from side to side on her chair. They stare at each other.

“I don’t know what that was,” Jessica says softly.

Taeyeon swallows, shifting again. “Ten years,” she mumbles and Jessica laughs, the sound sort of teary too. Taeyeon reaches forward, shyly even, and touches her fingers to Jessica’s face. “Pent up rage?” she jokes.

Jessica rolls her eyes. “You’re annoying.” She looks away and Taeyeon stares, studying her, maybe even memorizing her; none of this has gone the way she thought it would. Not that she thought it would go a certain way.

“I don’t know…” Taeyeon stops, swallowing. “I don’t know what to say. I wish I did. I wish I had the answers to everything. I wish I could be a little bit bigger and not feel like I’m about to snap in half – ”

The expression that Jessica wears is unreadable. Her mouth relaxes into a perfectly coifed line, corners turned into a slight smile. 

“I was the one that kissed you,” she says quietly. Firmly. She claims the affirmation and Taeyeon holds onto her own sense of relief. Jessica studies her, then shakes her head. She gives Taeyeon an out: “It’s okay.”

Guilt is a feeling, a real feeling, a tangible one that seems to hit Taeyeon with a coy harshness – as if it had been waiting for her all this time. She can’t find the words. Her mouth opens and Jessica stands, turns with her glass of wine in hand.

“I don’t know what to say.” Taeyeon can’t recognize the sound of her own voice. It’s husky, harsh, and cracks a little. “I wish I did – ”

“You said that already,” Jessica murmurs. She doesn’t turn and makes it to the kitchen, leaning against the island. 

“That’s not what I meant,” Taeyeon sighs. Her head feels a little heavy, but she follows. She can’t help but follow. She can now. “I just –”

Jessica laughs. Her expression changes; it seems a little kinder. 

“Eat your food,” is all she says.

 

 

 

 

 

The rest is a blur.

What Taeyeon can say is that it’s mostly polite conversation, _really_ polite conversation. She asks about Soojung, even though she already knows, secretly keeping tabs and otherwise. She doesn’t know what she says; they hugged, maybe, said goodbye, sure, and might have promised each other some kind of effort to keep in touch – _like everyone else_ , she had definitely said.

Nothing moves forward like this.

 

 

 

 

 

“So what did you do?”

It’s ice cream this time and Sunny is holding a cone in her hand that is halfway melted, dripping into the crook of her palm.

She licks it. “Because you’re wearing that face,” she continues. “The one where you’ve done something stupid and that makes me tired because you’ve done something stupid and I put _a lot of effort in_.”

“Did you hear from Fany yet?” Taeyeon tries instead. “She called me from California last night about Yoona’s song –”

Sunny rolls her eyes. “You’re the worst,” she says.

Taeyeon sighs and groans, dropping her head into her arms. Her ice cream remains untouched, pushed off to the side because she really has no kind of appetite as it is. She has to jump on a flight later.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she replies, swallowing. Her voice is muffled.

“It’s not going to go away.” Sunny laughs. It’s sharp. “I think that’s the biggest mistake we all made. Thinking that any of this stuff is going to go away. That if we don’t talk about it, it didn’t happen.”

Taeyeon shifts, sitting up. Her expression darkens. “It’s different,” she snaps. “It’s _different_ for me –”

“I know.” Sunny remains serene. “I didn’t say it wasn’t.”

Her mouth dries. “I’m not good at these things,” she mumbles. “And I wish I had all the answers, or that I could say something to her and it make sense instead of sounding like some kind of verbal vomit.”

Sunny is quiet and Taeyeon doesn’t press. The ice cream parlor is somewhat empty. There are a few people that come and go, that hover around their table for an autograph but tend to keep away – their managers are sitting at another table anyway. It just feels like she’s come to this place before, these thoughts, this _conclusion_. She does not like how this feels.

“You need to stop being mad that things move in their own way,” Sunny tells her. She reaches over, fingers sticky, but careful enough as she touches her hand. “And you need to be honest with yourself about how you feel.”

Taeyeon looks away. “I _don’t_ know how I feel,” she says.

The truth: they have known each other long enough to know that this game, the one that Taeyeon is trying to play right now with herself, is all for show, useless at best. Taeyeon has always been terrible when it comes to her own feelings, her own needs; it makes her the best kind of leader, the best kind of friend, but a mess when it comes to the in between.

“I think you do,” Sunny tells her. She’s always honest. “And that’s the problem.”

Sunny does not let her look away.

 

 

 

 

 

Jessica is New York. Jessica is in Hong Kong, in Milan, in Paris with a backdrop of pastries and her sister and expensive taste, things that don’t surprise her anymore. It makes Taeyeon anxious and she hates it, has always hated it since it’s nothing more than a cruel reminder that Jessica left and she’s okay, that they’re all managing to be okay, and of course, Taeyeon is still struggling.

But then Jessica is home.

“For now,” Sunny is exasperated over the phone. “I asked Luna and Amber. Which you so could have done yourself, you know.”

“Thank you,” Taeyeon mumbles.

“I told her to meet you,” Sunny says too. There’s a pause. “You _owe_ me.”

She is not waiting outside Jessica’s apartment though. Neutral territory is a small, hole-in-the-wall café that they used to go to when they were trainees. It’s not the greatest food, but it’s a space that Taeyeon feels like she’s on even ground.

“I’m surprised she remembers,” Taeyeon says. She stops and stares and Jessica appears at the window, feeding the meter for her car. “I should go,” she says quickly and Sunny snorts.

When she hangs up, Jessica is walking inside, shoving her phone into a bag. She smiles at Taeyeon, but moves to grab a menu, waving to the old man behind the counter before she sits.

“How was Canada?”

Taeyeon looks surprised. Jessica shrugs.

“I read the news,” she says dryly.

Taeyeon flushes. “It was nice,” she admits. She tucks her hair behind her ear. “The concert was nice too. It felt like I slowed down a little bit.”

“That’s good.” Jessica pauses before they order. It’s the usual: a small coffee for Taeyeon, something sweet for Jessica, and it’s a weird flashback for the both of them. Jessica wears a soft smile. “It’s been years since I’ve been here.”

“I still come,” Taeyeon admits. She laughs. “Mostly because my manager hates it.”

Jessica nods.

They fall into silence. Mostly, Taeyeon is trying to work up some kind of courage to not blurt something out. This is about a lot of different things, feelings, mostly, but feelings seem to work their own kind of magic over her.

“I’m sorry,” she says quietly. Taeyeon stares at Jessica, trying to hold her gaze. “For everything.” She laughs. “For nothing too,” she says. “I’m sorry that I can’t get it together, that I don’t know how to say things to you straight because… honestly? Honestly, I didn’t think we’d get to this point where I’d sit in front of you and get to talk to you.”

Jessica shakes her head, picking at her cake. “You don’t have to say anything,” she murmurs.

“But I do,” Taeyeon protests and she leans forward, grabbing her hand. Her fingers lace through Jessica’s hand and she holds it tightly, selfishly trying to walk herself through this. “I _do_ because I have a lot of things to say and I don’t know where I should start. My head’s a mess because you kissed me and I kissed you back and being ready for that again – I just –”

“Taeyeon-ah,” Jessica says. She reaches forward, gently flicking her fingers against her forehead. “It’s okay.”

“It’s _not_. You have to stop letting me pass over this,” she retorts, her fists pushing against the table. “Why are you trying to make this so _easy_?”

Jessica’s expression changes, again, like that night, where Taeyeon finds herself completely unable to read her. It’s disorienting. She recognizes the face. There are times and places where that face has come out. When Jessica kissed her. When she left. She feels ready to panic. 

“I don’t need words,” Jessica says. Her voice is calm. Her eyes seem to darken. “We don’t do well with words, you know?”

“That’s not fair,” Taeyeon shoots back. “You know that’s not fair.” She waits for a retort, but Jessica sits there, waiting. “I hate that you’re like this,” she admits. “That it seems so easy for you to move forward – let alone, be okay with –” she waves her hands around, panicked again, “ _feelings_ ,” she finishes.

Jessica laughs.

She laughs and _laughs_ , laughs to the point that there are tears forming in her eyes and Taeyeon can only sit there, staring because this is not where this was supposed to go. Jessica laughs so hard, she clutches her stomach, bent almost over the table. Her plate is pushed forward.

“You think that this was easy for me?” Jessica wipes away at her eyes. She shakes her head. “You really think it was _easy_? It’s been years, Taeyeon. Years. I almost didn’t make it – ” She stops herself, rubbing her eyes again. “That’s not even the point. I don’t know if we can even talk about that –”

“We can talk about it,” Taeyeon tells her. She mumbles it again. “We can.”

“No, we can’t,” Jessica says. “Because you can barely form any sort of sentence and you have yet to ask you why I kissed you. Why I wanted to kiss you.” She snorts, throwing her hands up. “At least ask me out on a date.”

If it’s a joke, it goes over Taeyeon’s head. If it isn’t, she’s definitely screwed up because Jessica neatly tucks her fork into the corner of her plate. She pushes her chair back, searching her bag.

“I don’t know if I’m ready to know why you kissed me,” Taeyeon says quietly. “I don’t even know if I’m ready to know why I kissed you back.”

They’re messy. This is messy. Unfinished business feels painful and absolute. She blames herself. She blames everything else in between. When Jessica shifts to stand, Taeyeon reaches forward again and laces her fingers through hers.

“I’m sorry.” She tries again: “I wish…”

“I can’t keep doing this.” Jessica doesn’t pull back yet. “So we can call it what it was. We kissed. _I_ kissed you. We can’t talk about everything in the past because you’re mad that I’m moving forward.” Jessica stares at their hands and then one by one, pushes her fingers away. “You decided to shut me out,” she finishes. “I am equally guilty on a lot of other things. But meeting me halfway –”

Taeyeon jumps up. She is not impulsive, but her hand leaves Jessica’s and flies into Jessica’s hair, pulling her forward into a kiss. Her mouth is hot, heavy, and then softens against Jessica’s as the other woman sort of sighs, then relaxes into her arm, half-kissing her and maybe more resigned. 

She doesn’t know how long they stand there. It’s not an answer. It’s not even a first kiss, but she does lose herself to how sweet Jessica tastes, how she tastes exactly how she thought she would, and how pulling away will not solve anything. But she does and with a soft, nervous laugh, she drops her forehead against Jessica’s shoulder.

“I’m not telling you to go,” she says breathlessly. “I’m just asking for you to let me take a step closer. If you want.”

Jessica’s fingers are in her hair and there’s a laugh maybe her, maybe Jessica – it doesn’t even matter. The air sort of settles and Jessica’s fingers travel along the plane of her neck, then back to her hair as she tugs Taeyeon to look up at her.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Jessica smiles a little. “But you have to decide what you want, just you.” She squeezes Taeyeon’s hand. “That’s all I can say.”

It’s not an answer. It’s not _the_ answer. It sort of ends here and she cannot remember if she says goodbye or if it’s Jessica. It doesn’t even feel real. What she does know: her lips are still wet, hot, and she can taste the flavor of the cake that has somehow come to rest against the tip of her tongue as a reminder. She doesn’t know if there’s anything else to say. It’s a lot, she tells herself. This is _a lot_ and maybe that’s part of the problem. Maybe she’s thinking too hard, too much, and too soon about things that she hasn’t been able to sort through herself without trying.

She knows what she wants to do though.

That’s pretty terrifying.

 

 

 

 

The time stamp for her text message reads _12:17am_. It sits under her schedule for the rest of her week, a company reminder, and her assorted messages that she really hasn’t been trying to avoid but has been anyway.

Taeyeon rereads it twice. She wonders if Jessica will laugh.

_Let’s have a date._


End file.
